


Fifty Shades Of Blue (aka Fifty Shags of Peter)

by Basmathgirl



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Fright Night (2011)
Genre: F/M, Humor, Parody, Sexual Content, Sexual Humor, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-09 03:53:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/769664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basmathgirl/pseuds/Basmathgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Donna meets the available, handsome, famous, millionaire magician Peter Vincent. So why is she attracted to him? And what does he want to do to her?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** the Who version of "Fifty Shades of Grey" – muse prodded by [Serenitys_Lady](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Serenitys_Lady) [thanks, love!!] and the picture supplied by[ develish1](http://archiveofourown.org/users/develish1).  
>  **Disclaimer:** the only thing I own here is the desire to take the mick out of "Fifty Shades Of Grey" by E.L. James.  
>  **A/N:** Whilst I managed to keep within the confines of the book "Fifty Shades of Grey" during the first chapter, I quickly abandoned it thereafter. It was unbelievably boring and nauseating to keep up the inner goddess stuff!!

  
  
Banner created by the talented & lovely **beachy_geek**  


Donna was beyond annoyed. What on earth had possessed her to agree to do this ‘little favour’ for Nerys? All she had to do was travel all the way up to the Hammersmith Apollo, see some magician called Peter Vincent, hand over some pathetic certificate from the readers of the Chiswick Gazette and ask him a few questions. That’s what she had been promised.

Nobody had mentioned the Tube strike when this was proposed, or the fact the heavens had opened and it was raining cats and dogs! Bloody hell! She was in two minds to pack it all in and call it a day when she spied herself in a shop window. Her reflection said her hair was too wet, too long and too ginger. Her blue eyes often disappeared from view if she didn’t apply a layer of dark mascara to her equally ginger eyelashes. They gazed back at her quizzically. Why couldn’t ‘the powers that be’ had decreed she could have blonde hair like Nerys did? Blondes always had more fun; and more drinks bought for them. They also seemed to fall out of the backs of taxis more, but that was neither here nor there.

Stepping over a decidedly vicious looking puddle, she found herself at the entrance doors to the Apollo. Thank goodness for that! A quick push of a heavy door and she was inside. Ooh, who said style had died? The place was awash with brass handles, Victorian light fittings and mock Edwardian wallpaper. The whole effect was sickening.

“Can I help you?” a dark haired women asked from behind the security of the ticket office window. “We ain’t open yet.”

“Thanks, I can see that,” Donna responded politely. “I have an appointment with the bloke here.” She then hastily pulled out her letter of recommendation, read it, and amended her request to, “I’m here to see Mr Peter Vincent.”

“Oh him!” the woman replied with an extreme lack of interest. “Hang on, I’ll call someone.” She then bobbed out of sight and Donna was left there standing like a lemon. As she waited she couldn’t help feeling she’d never fit in at such a place; everybody looked so frumpy! Two minutes later the woman bobbed back into view to announce, “Go through that door there.”

Donna vaguely pointed at it, and then made her way towards it. She’d definitely not fit in; give her an office any day of the week! The other side of the door was quite dark compared to outside in the foyer, but she gamely made her way along a corridor that led to some strange smelling rooms.

A little man suddenly appeared in front of her, making her jump. “You must be Nerys from the Gazette,” he told her. “Follow me.”

“No, I’m not…,” she tried to explain, but he wasn’t listening.

“Mr Vincent is through here. Don’t take longer than fifteen minutes, no photos and no autographs,” he breezily said, and then just as quickly disappeared.

‘Thanks for nothing!’ she thought, and knocked on the dressing room door that he had indicated; entering when someone shouted out to do so.

The lights inside dazzled her, causing her to accidentally walk straight into a chair, trip up and land splat on the floor. “Oh shit!” she cried out as she fell painfully onto her knees. There was a distinct feel of tights ripping as she went down. ‘How wizard!’ she thought.

She found herself staring at very shiny black shoes that were beneath black leather trousers and an expanse of enticing flesh. But staring her right in the face was a laced up, very enticingly intricate crotch; patterned with zigzagging boot buttons finely laced together. The smell of the leather was distinct and not exactly unwelcome. That was before the after shave hit her and a manly hand with black nail varnish gripped her arm.

“Are you okay, Nerys?” she was asked as a man helped her onto her feet.

Donna found herself looking into black-lined large brown eyes, a head flanked by long black hair, all set around a countenance that had one of those Musketeer moustache and beard combos that looked out of place on a modern face. The whole effect, however, was not unpleasant in the slightest. “Mr Vincent?” she asked wobbly. Damn! Nerys had never said he was going to be drop dead gorgeous! She’d been expecting Paul Daniels’ younger brother.

He tried to smile at her; she had to give him his due. “Call me Peter. Everybody else does.”

She instantly could think of a few other names they might call him behind his back. “Hello Peter, I’m Donna. Donna Noble. I’m sorry but Nerys isn’t well and she asked me to bring the bumf with me,” she quickly explained.

He quirked an eyebrow. An eyebrow that had two studs in it by the way, so it might have been painful to do that. “You look very wet, Donna. Have you come far?”

_I wish I was wet for you_. “Yes! I’ve walked at least two miles in this muck!” she instantly complained vehemently. “And some berk in a huge Audi splashed me when he went through a massive puddle. I hate those sorts of people in their Chelsea tractors.”

“Let me help you with that,” he offered, and took hold of her coat to slip it off her shoulders; shaking it out before hanging it on his coatrack.

The feel of his fingertips touching her neck sent delicious shivers down her spine; as though he had just kissed her there. Self-consciously she smoothed her hands down her dress, accidentally emphasising her curvaceous figure.

He indicated towards one of the chairs in the room. “Please sit yourself down,” he politely offered, and sat gracefully on to a soft leather seat. _God he smells good!_

“Thank you,” she shyly said and then busied herself dragging out the appropriate pieces of paper out of her bag. “Here’s your certificate, presented to you on behalf of the readers of the Chiswick Gazette. No idea what you did to deserve it, but I assume it was won fair and square,” she told him nervously as he gazed intensely at her. His dark stare was very unnerving, in a delicious sort of way. _I do not find that sexy_. “I erm… have also been asked to wave these questions at you. God knows who wrote them because you’ve probably answered these a thousand times before,” she commiserated with him. Reading through them she then exclaimed, “That is so lame! ‘What is your favourite colour’ indeed! Shall I write ‘bright pink’ just to upset them?” She then smiled at him as her pen poised over her notepad, hoping he’d at least cheer up if not crack a smile himself; miserable bugger.

“Please thank your kind readers on my behalf for this valuable and wonderful certificate. I think my favourite colour might just have become ginger,” he answered, knocking her off her equilibrium.

Her mouth went dry, and she hastily licked her lips. “Ginger? Okay. But you do realise people won’t believe you, don’t you? Most people would choose ‘blonde’ as their favourite hair colour, or at least brown.”

He leaned closer, and partly whispered, “I’m not ‘most people’, Donna; and what makes you think I was talking about hair colour?”

Liquid brown eyes bore into her, daring her to contradict him. _Sexy bastard!_ “Because otherwise ginger is a spice,” she retorted.

His fingers were seriously distracting her as they swept over his full bottom lip thoughtfully and then ended up clasped prayer-like and pointing towards her.

“Good point, Donna. I love rustic colours; they bring out the warmth in things,” he practically purred at her. “What else did you want to ask me?”

_Your place or mine_. She gave the question list another quick glance. “There isn’t normally any mention of family when you do interviews. Do you have any?”

He took in a breath. “I had a family once, but they died and I was placed into care. There is nothing to say beyond that.”

“So there’s no Mrs Peter Vincent or mini Vincents?” Donna blurted out, and then blushed. “Sorry, that seems a bit intrusive.”

“This is an interview after all, Donna,” he responded, and quirked a disbelieving eyebrow. “In answer to your question, no, there isn’t. I’m all alone.”

It was the way he said the last bit, which came out defiant and with a hint of sadness, that touched her heart. Yes, there was a lonely quality about him. “Are you gay?” she suddenly heard herself ask, and was mortified by the question.

His eyebrows shot momentarily into his hairline. “I can confirm that I am not gay; despite being asked this question quite a few times. I don’t tend to parade the women I am interested in for the press to snap.”

“Might be better for your career if you do. The papers love blokes like you falling out of nightclubs with a tart on each arm,” she remarked before she could stop herself. What was the matter with her all of a sudden? Was it footinmouthitis? “I am so sorry! I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Why not, Donna? It is true after all. I’m sure you would have heard of me if such photos existed,” he countered.

Damn! He had guessed she was the sort of person that followed the celebrity pages of a newspaper. “I might have,” she cagily answered. “I’ve heard of David Blaine.”

Anger instantly flared across his handsome face. “Don’t ever mention him to me,” he said tightly. “Do you have any other questions?”

She looked at the pathetic questions on her paper. Most of them she could easily make up the answers to having met him. “No, I don’t think so, Peter. Unless you want to volunteer something, of course.”

There was a smirk of amusement about his mouth. “What sort of thing?” he queried.

“Oh, I dunno,” she answered, and hastily looked about his dressing room for inspiration. Hidden underneath a different magazine entirely was the latest copy of The Sky At Night. She recognised it because her grandfather had bought that very edition early that morning. “If you could meet Sir Patrick Moore, what question would you ask him?”

Peter visibly started at her question, and she worried that she had offended him accidentally. There was no way she wouldn’t know if she had done so deliberately.

After some thought, he replied, “I would be interested to know how he felt about other life forms coexisting with us; other higher life forms.”

“Like aliens, you mean?” she pondered.

He smiled knowingly. “That sort of thing”

There was a sudden rap on the door and a head bobbed into the room. It was the bloke that had shown her where to find Peter. “Mr Vincent…? You need to get to your meeting straight away. They’re being very insistent,” he announced.

Peter seemed completely unfazed by this attempt to hurry him. Instead he turned to her, glimpsed at her notes and asked, “How good are your secretarial skills, Donna?”

_‘100 wpm, magic boy!’_ she wanted to boast. “Pretty good. Why?”

“Because you are coming with me,” he insisted, and stood to leave. “Des, get the car ready,” he practically barked out of his dressing room door as he strode away.

“Erm… Peter! Wait up. Where are you going?” she demanded to know as she chased after him. “And what makes you think I’ll come too?”

He twirled on the spot and grinned at her. “I think that because you are already doing so, and I need someone to take notes,” he said tritely. “You don’t mind doing me a favour in return, do you?”

“Well… I suppose not,” she answered cautiously, “if it isn’t going to take all day.” She was distracted from saying anything else because her soaking wet coat was thrust into her hands by the bloke from earlier, and then Peter took a firm grip of her arm.

“I’m glad we got that sorted,” he remarked smugly, and led her out of the building.


	2. Chapter 2

It was still teeming down outside, so they rushed in through the open door of the nearby car without looking properly. Donna found herself sitting closely to Peter on the back seat of a large and expensive looking vehicle as it sped along Talgarth Road. She blinked wetly at him. “If we end up at some sleazy hotel where they are filming a porn film my hand will find the side of your face quickly than Linford Christie won a gold medal.”

Peter actually laughed, much to her annoyance. “It’ll be a fucking cold day in hell when you manage to pull that stunt on me!” he proclaimed. “But to reassure you, we won’t be going to a sleazy hotel. In fact I hear it’s quite nice.”

“You what?!” she fumed at him. “Are you trying to piss me off?”

“I seem to be succeeding, Donna,” he answered playfully. He then unnerved her by leaning in and saying, “Live a little for once.”

For a brief moment she thought… wished… he’d kiss her, but all he did was smugly consider her as she sat clutching her bag to herself as though it was a protective pillow. “In your dreams, mate!” she muttered, more to herself than to him. “So where are we going? Or is it some bloody big secret?”

Peter glanced up and out the window. “We’re almost there, at the Cromarty Hotel. I have to sort some last minute paperwork out to cover my copyright and the legality of performing in London for the DVD.”

“Sounds like a right barrel of laughs,” she commented. “Why do you need someone like me along?”

He gazed at her as though she had lost her wits. “They will try to fuck me over, and I obviously don’t want them to. You’re here as a witness and to lend a steadying hand.”

Her breathing hitched a lift as he carelessly took hold of her hand as though he did so every day of the week. The action fired desire within her body, especially when his fingertip strayed onto the inner part of her wrist.

“But Peter, you could have chosen anyone as a witness,” she insisted modestly as she fiddled with a lock of her hair.

He reached up and took hold of the lock of hair, tucking it behind her ear, caressing her earlobe as he did so. “True; but I chose you. Do you think you are up to the task? I promise to make it worth your while,” he practically purred.

Donna found herself readily replying, “I can be flexible.”

His eyebrows quirked in amused interest. “That’s really good to hear.” At this point the car swished up the entrance of a grand looking building, and the doorman stepped forward to open the door. However it was Peter that helped Donna to get out of the car and escorted her inside.

“Mr Vincent! This way please,” a man in an equally fancy uniform to the doorman greeted them; and pointed them towards a conference room.

“Good morning everyone,” Peter announced as they entered the room. “This lady is Donna Noble, acting as my temporary PA for today. May ask who each of you are?”

Introductions were made, Peter seated Donna by his side, and she drew out her notepad. Now this she could do standing on her head! The next hour or so was spent listening and scribbling away as various points were argued out.

Every now and then she couldn’t resist glancing at Peter as he reacted to the propositions placed before him. He talked so animatedly, and he was so passionate about what he did. She found herself wondering how far that passion extended. And then it was back to the business in hand, so she scribbled away on her notepad.

Eventually they started to file out of the room, and Donna was left wondering what came next. “Erm… Peter? What do you want me to do with these notes I’ve taken?” she asked.

“Type them up, of course. Would you prefer to do that here in my room upstairs or would you like to bring them back to me later?” he asked, edging closer as he did so.

“Later? How late are we talking here?” she wondered.

“‘After the show’ later. We could have dinner and then discuss some things together. How does that sound? But first we shall go and have lunch,” he said decisively. “And I’ll get someone to bring you a fresh pair of tights.”

“Oh! You don’t have to do all that,” Donna insisted politely as he grabbed her hand again and started to lead her out of the conference room.

He regarded her thoughtfully. “I know I don’t, but we need to eat, and you can’t go around wearing ripped tights all day.”

Damn! She’d forgotten about her tights momentarily. How did he manage to distract her so easily? Come to think of it, how did he know? “Well if you insist…”

He slyly smiled. “Oh I do, Donna; and I normally get my own way.”

If she didn’t know any better she’d suspect that was a predatory gleam in his eye.

To her surprise he led her through into the main dining area of the hotel rather than an outside place, and they were quickly seated at a table for two by the window of the impressive restaurant.

“This seems a bit posh,” she whispered loudly to him across their table. “I’m not dressed right for this.”

His eyes swept over her outfit, which was only just dry from the earlier downpour. “Why are you worrying? You look fine; more than fine. I’m not exactly overdressed either.”

She couldn’t agree more about that. A shirt was lacking for a start. “Yes, but you go about like that a lot, judging by your posters. Don’t you ever get cold?”

“Not in Las Vegas I don’t. It’s fucking boiling out there; unlike London. I forgot how bloody cold it can be,” he admitted.

“You should get yourself a nice shirt or jumper,” she suggested teasingly. “One with a big fluffy kitten on it.”

“Still trying to push that pink image on me, I see,” he answered, grinning good naturedly.

“I like it when you smile. Makes you look entirely different,” she confessed and then immediately regretted it. “Sorry, doesn’t go with the whole brooding image, does it? It must be a right pain in the bum always going about being grumpy.”

“It does get wearing… as does waiting for these fucking sandwiches!” he griped, looking around for a waiter.

As luck would have it, a waiter swept up with many apologies as he served up their lunch. Donna had wanted to laugh at the whole scene of Peter batting away the obsequiousness being displayed. “You seem to have made a friend for life there,” she commented once the waiter had moved away.

Peter shrugged. “It’s my money or fame they tend to be interested in. Real friends are much harder to get than that. Anyway, enough about me; tell me about yourself, Donna.”

“Who me?” she asked as she took a sip of her tea. “Not much to tell, I’m afraid. I’ve been close to marrying, gone back to live with my mum since Dad died, and I am now doing nothing important at all with my life. I’d love to travel and hope to one day when I’ve saved up enough money.”

“So there’s a man who might chase after me if I try to entice you away from all this,” he tried to suggest.

“No!” she said with feeling. “There’s no one interested in me. I wish there was.”

He seemed to be thinking carefully about her words. “Finished?” he asked and pointed at her empty plate in question. The answer seemed to be yes. “In that case I’d better take you up to my room to change your tights, and then we’ll head out back to Hammersmith.”

That seemed fair enough, Donna thought; so she followed him to the hotel lift and stood patiently for the lift to arrive. Walking in, she noticed him glance cautiously at her in the mirror. What was he up to?

The lift doors shut and he immediately drew close again. “How do you feel about lifts, Donna?” he asked. His breath wafted across her cheek.

“Erm… I’m up and down about them,” she replied, and gained the groan she had hoped for. After that she couldn’t keep the grin off her face, even when some bloke tried to walk into her as they left the lift and Peter had to grab her out of harm’s way.

“I can see you are trouble,” he remarked, and opened the door to his hotel room. Lying on the dressing table was a pack of replacement tights, so he picked them up and handed them over to her. “These must be for you.”

She considered the pack now within her hands. “I suppose that depends… Are you Peter or Petra?”

“You saucy cow!” he exclaimed, and playfully wrapped his arms around her waist. “I may have to prove to you once and for all where my allegiances lie.”

“Hmm. I’m guessing it has something to do with a queen,” she teased, and placed her hands on his shoulders.

“Not ‘a queen’, my dear Donna, but the Queen,” he argued back with evident joy. “I can prove it, in fact I’m very willing in that direction.” He then ghosted his lips over her mouth, although part of his attention was on her décolletage. “Do you need my help to get your tights off? And while we’re at it, we could remove some other items; like this dress,” he suggested huskily. His hands were already easing down the zip.

“Hang on! What are you playing at?” Donna huffed indignantly as she felt his hand touch the bare skin of her back. “I’m not that bloody easy.”

“Then what can I do to persuade you?” Peter countered smoothly. His hand continued to caress her bared flesh, teasing her with the things it promised as it slowly progressed south.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, realising that she hadn’t exactly shoved him away.

His answer was to place his mouth upon hers, tasting her lips with delicate touches, drawing her in to crave his warm embrace. It grew from soft and sensual to hungry and desiring as they moved on each other.

She let out a groan as he smoothed his tongue over hers; and she hastily pushed his coat off his shoulders, leaving his chest ready for exploration as she gripped his back. How had she not noticed the fact he had clipped open her bra and eased down her dress? She didn’t properly realise until aroused flesh hit bare skin, and he pulled her flush against his burgeoning body.

There was no way in hell that she wanted to stop him after that when his lips sought to suckle her tender flesh, causing her nipples to peak with the use of his tongue. God, he made her feel good!

Her good mood was broken when he asked her, “Shall we do this on the bed?”

In a panic, she blurted out, “I don’t have a condom.”

“Then let’s see if I do,” he answered far too easily for his own good. Especially when he pulled open the drawer where the pack of tights had been sitting and a large, brand new box of condoms sat in there.

Donna felt anger rage through her at the assumption. “You arranged this from the very moment I stepped into this hotel, you git! What on earth do you think I am? I didn’t come up on the down train.”

His eyes blazed with indignation and desire as he deliberately brought out the box and started to undo the seal. “I will admit to wanting to fuck you from the moment I saw you; and I rather got the impression you’d like to do me too. So what do you say, Donna? Fancy some afternoon delight?”

  


“Well then, Peter. You’d better prove it,” she quickly answered before her sensible side stopped her. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** many thanks to **tkel_paris** for her brilliant suggestions.  
>  **A/N2:** for some reason being in Las Vegas last year made me think about Donna and Peter Vincent. How strange!

Unfortunately her sensible side wasn’t going to stay silent for long. What had she been thinking?! Her friends would think she was utterly mad for coming into a posh hotel room with a strange man who obviously wanted to have sex with her. As Donna’s eyes swept over Peter, taking in his well-toned naked chest, the desire in his eyes and _those_ leather trousers she knew _exactly_ what they’d say about him. They’d say she’d be mad not to shag him to within an inch of his life! Of that she was certain.

Peter practically launched himself at her, grabbing Donna firmly around the waist, and manoeuvred her onto the bed, laying her flat on her back before she had a chance to draw breath. She giggled with delight as he hovered above her.

“What the fuck is funny?” he wondered.

“You, you silly sod. Acting like some sort of He-Man like that. If you’re not careful you’ll do your back in one of these days,” she warned him.

“I’ll have you know that I deliberately keep myself fit,” he pointed out.

Her eyes swept over him before answering, “Yes, I had noticed a lot of deliberate things about you.”

He quirked a disbelieving eyebrow at her cheek. Surely she couldn’t be goading him to explode in anger? “Care to notice something else while we’re in here? Like your desire to do me right this minute.”

“Pretty sure of our self, aren’t we?” she teased him mercilessly. “I might have my eye on someone else right now.”

“What a shame, because your body is resting against mine and I would swear your flushed skin…” He licked languidly up her neck as he said this. “…is telling me…” He nibbled along her earlobe. “…that I am the person in question.”

Donna’s breathing became rather erratic in response, but she fought to remain nonchalant. She almost managed it too; but Peter went and pressed upon her lower torso, causing a delicious frisson of lust to crash through her body. Good grief! He felt huge and wonderful despite the confines of his leather trousers… or was that because of them?

“What on earth tells you that? It could be Johnny Depp for all you know,” she tried to protest. When I say ‘tried’ it was evident to both of them that she was getting nowhere fast with that line.

“It fucking ain’t,” he retorted confidently. “Now about these tights… I think we need to get rid of them.” With that, he placed his fingertips on the edge of the large hole in her nylons that sat judgementally below her knee and pulled, hard! The polyester fibres easily broke; exposing more of her creamy freckled skin.

“What are you doing?” she shrieked out before she could stop herself.

“What do you fucking think I’m doing?” he snapped back. “I’m getting rid of these bloody things for you; so keep still.” Peter placed a firm hand on her leg to keep her still while he sought the naked goal he desired so badly; ripping away with gusto.

Within seconds all that was left of her pair of tights was the stocking fabric of the briefs at the top. Peter was panting at this point due to the exertion, but mainly with excitement. He liked doing that, very much so; and instantly decided he would try that one again. His fingers then moved to the elasticated waistband, and he started to tug downwards.

“Hang on!” Donna cried out, as her underwear started to move in sync. “You’ll be de-briefing me at this rate.”

“And your point is…?” he sarcastically huffed as he glared at her in disbelief.

She huffed back in equal tones. “For some reason I seem to be approaching nakedness fast and you are still wearing those things,” she said, prodding a finger towards his trousers.

“What’s wrong with these?” he asked, clearly affronted by her attitude. “I thought they look pretty good on me.”

Donna glared back. “So you plan on keeping them on, do you?” 

He shrugged as he weighed up her words. “Not particularly,” he replied nonchalantly. “But I might need some help.”

She eyed the contraption at his waist warily. “How exactly _do_ you get them off?” she eventually asked.

He waggled his eyebrows at her playfully. “Play your cards right, sweetheart…”

Inevitably she thumped him in the arm. “Just tell me, you great numpty!” She felt none the wiser when he fell onto the bedcovers, laughing at her.

“Undo the laces, like a shoe,” he prompted, and lay flat for her questing fingers. 

Cautiously, Donna started to pick at the cord with her fingernails, teasing the knot undone whilst wondering if all her efforts would be worth it. “Oh! You’ve not gone commando!” she exclaimed once the fastening was completely opened.

“I did consider it, and so would you if it took this much effort to get the fucking thing undone,” Peter immediately explained. “But something cropped up.”

“What the…?” she gasped out as a small cloud of white dust suddenly whooshed out when she accidentally pinged the elastic at his waist.

“It’s talcum powder,” he retorted. “You wouldn’t believe the irritation I get from wearing these fucking things!”

“You poor baby,” she chortled. 

He grabbed her wrists and emphasised, “I am _not_ a baby, in case you haven’t noticed. And I’m sure you’ve had woman problems at some point, so show some sympathy.” With an effortless tug, he drew her face nearer and briefly kissed her lips. “How about I prove I’m no longer a baby, and you take advantage of me?”

“You what? I get to run off with your credit card and then claim alimony?” Donna asked as she returned the kiss.

He grinned with delight. “You are one fucking saucy cow; and I could get to love you,” he said breathily.

“You’d better believe it, magic boy,” she said with a smirk.

Taking in a deep breath for courage, she returned to her task of undoing the complicated fastening that interlaced across his lower abdomen, taking her time to slowly unwrap him; more to tease him, if she had to be honest. Never mind, Peter seemed to be enjoying it, judging by the way he was lightly panting and the tiny groans that puffed their way out of his mouth each time her fingers accidentally-on-purpose touchingly caressed his arousal each time she removed another piece of lacing.

“What would you like me to do now?” she silkily asked, still delighting in the fact that she could tease him so and he was clearly letting her. This was an element of their blossoming relationship she would get to absolutely love!

“What do you fucking think!” Peter moaned out his answer.

“I don’t know; that’s why I asked,” she replied, slowly trailing a finger down his length.

He flashed her a glare of frustration, and then seemed to be straining with some sort of tension. “Several things spring to mind. I’ll take a blow job or a decent fuck. What do you fancy doing to me?”

“Hmm. Let me see,” she wondered, still trailing that finger before circling the head. “The trousers will have to come off first.”

“Help yourself,” he magnanimously offered, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Do you know what? I just might.” First she slipped off his shoes and then she took hold of his waistband and tugged down; slowly peeling the leather trousers from his torso along with his underpants. Throwing him a satisfied smirk, she continued pulling them down passed his knees to find legs that were surprisingly tanned too. “Oh look! I was expecting two white pieces of string,” she stated.

“I’m full of unexpected things,” he bragged.

She did her best withering look. “You’re full of something, that’s for sure.”

“Do you want me to fuck you or not?” he asked somewhat testily.

Donna neatly folded up his leather trousers and placed them to the side. “You need to change your chat up line, mate,” she said sarcastically. “I might get the idea you only want me for sex.”

[ ](http://s842.photobucket.com/albums/zz344/bas_math_girl/People/?action=view&current=FNClip17closeup.jpg)

He laughed. “No, I can think of a couple of other things I might want you for,” he replied, sitting up and reaching for her. “But right this second I want to kiss you.”

He did so, using a few brief kisses and then a slower, sensual kiss. “And then I want to explore your body, if that’s okay with you.”

She snorted with delight. “There might be a slot in my diary for that. Yes, I’m sure there is. Will you be needing a map and a compass for your exploration?” she asked, trying not to be affected by the way he gradually kissed his way from the patch of skin below her ear and down her neck.

“You have a slot, eh?” he naughtily teased, and she instantly swatted his shoulder, in mock annoyance. “Oh I intend to fill your slot,” he said with a saucy smile. “I will explore your mountains and valleys without the aid of any ropes.” He lifted his head from examining her breasts and risked asking, “Did you want me to use ropes?”

To his relief, Donna burst out laughing. “Nah, save all that for your magic act. I’ll stick to traditional this time.”

He mentally filed away the inference of ‘this time’, deciding not to comment on it for the time being and said, “One traditional coming right up. Would you like to go large with that?”

“Go on then, make it bigger,” she teased back. Since her hand had returned to caressing and smoothing his shaft, she knew exactly how big it was likely to be.

“As long as we get the full experience, you can have whatever you want.” He breathed seductively against her skin before drawing her closer to taste the firm flesh of her breasts; licking, nibbling and sucking in turn as he sought out her nipple. With a deft fleck of his tongue, he drew it into his mouth.

Her little pants and mewls of pleasure encouraged him to smooth his hands down her body until he reached the waistband of her knickers. With firm pressure, he nimbly took hold the elastic and pulled down her knickers in one fell swoop. Kicking off his own socks, he returned his attention to her now naked body. He kissed her tempting mouth, gliding his tongue along hers and showing her exactly what he’d like to do to her body. His fingers did likewise, stroking her lower curls before dipping in to first delicately rub her clit and then delve in further to enter her properly with gentle thrusts.

“Come on, gorgeous; you can do it,” he whispered low in her ear. He was rewarded with an unsubtle squeeze of her inner muscles, making him yearn for a similar reaction when he entered her fully.

The decision made in his mind, he purposefully leant towards the bedside table, grabbed a foil packet and ripped it open with his teeth.

“Let me do that,” Donna offered, taking it from his willing fingers, and she drew out the condom.

With a fluid expert ease she unrolled it onto him and smiled smugly at the end result. She loved the way his eyes had darkened and softened as he gazed back. It was exactly what she had been hoping for.

‘Please don’t say anything to break this spell’, she thought as he brought their lips together again.

Fortunately he didn’t. Instead he used his mouth to arouse her with hungry kisses until she felt herself start to drift away in pleasure.

“God, you’re beautiful!” he gasped out as he manoeuvred himself into position above her, pressing himself against her entrance.

In answer, she latched her mouth onto his enticing long neck and placed her hands firmly on his bum, giving it a squeeze of encouragement as she tilted her pelvis towards him.

Well, what else could he do after that? Her wish was his to obey. But before he did, Peter wanted desperately to see how she looked as he entered her, so he forced his eyes to stay open as he slid in with a delicious groan.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** many thanks to **dreamer_bee** for providing me with an illustration.  
>  **A/N2:** in case this leaves you wondering, the song is "[I'm Sticking With You](http://youtu.be/H5je_eK0V1w)" by Velvet Underground.

Donna's body was warm and tight around him as Peter eased in and out experimentally. She made the most divine noises as he did so, so he varied the angle of his thrusts to see what affect they had upon her response.

To his delight she moved with him, on him, and in counterpoint to his movements; enhancing the experience considerably. The biting of his neck wasn’t too bad either.

When her legs rose to wrap possessively around his waist he went for it, thrusting deep and joyously.

Both of them groaned out in pleasure as their climax beckoned. Fortunately Donna’s hit just before Peter’s did, providing him with one of the best experiences he’d ever had as he spilled his encased seed high into her body. 

Flinging himself backwards, Peter lay on the bed breathing heavily. “Give me a minute or two, love, and we’ll go again,” he said, disposing the used condom and pulling out a fresh packet from the box.

“Again?” she asked, disbelieving him. “You don’t have to try and impress me, you know.”

He rolled towards her and smirked confidently. “Oh, I want to impress you alright; very much so.”

“How were you going to do that then?” she mused, and snuggled up against his side. He loosely wrapped an arm around her waist in turn.

“Stick with me, baby, and you’ll be amazed,” he merrily boasted.

“Stick - like a sticky stick?” she queried.

Then to her utter amazement he broke into a song. “I’m sticking with you, ‘cos I’m made out of glue, anything that you might do, I’m gonna do too…” He stopped abruptly when he saw her stunned expression. “What? Haven’t you heard of that one?”

“Of course I have; it’s just… you, and singing. It doesn’t seem right somehow,” she replied. To soften her words she reached up to tenderly caress his face. “Emo boys aren’t supposed to act happy.” She then pressed closer in order to kiss him. “Unless sex makes you happy…”

He eagerly returned the kiss. “It certainly does. Fucking happy just about covers it. How about providing me with some more happy?” Those eyebrows waggled suggestively again.

The mood was instantly broken by the telephone sitting by them ringing.

Peter snatched up the phone, obviously in a rage at the interruption. “What the fuck do you want?” he shouted down the phone, and then listened intently; the frown staying on his face. After a few seconds he answered tersely, “We’ll be there as soon as possible. Just don’t fucking let Billy anywhere near it, do you hear? He couldn’t organise a piss up in a brewery. Give me an hour before you call again.” With that he slammed the phone down and muttered a curse under his breath.

“Trouble at the office, dear?” Donna asked cheerily.

A smile spread across his face as he took in her naked form on the bed beside him. “Donna, you have no idea how much trouble. What I need is a strong woman to help me organise things and get them into shape.” He trailed his fingertips up her body as slowly as he could as he spoke. “A woman who knows her way around things, who is flexible,” he told her, his body looming enticingly above hers. “And if she is sexy as hell to boot, that’s an added bonus that I am more than willing to live with. So what do you think?” he asked breathily into her ear as he moved in to kiss the soft skin at the base of her neck. “Do you fancy being mine?”

“Yours?” she queried. Good god, he could persuade her into anything at that moment.

“We could start with you as my very Personal Assistant, and then we will move on from there.” He rested his body on top of her briefly, willing her to say yes to his proposal. But staying professional wasn’t his forte, and soon his hands were once again smoothing their way down to caress her bottom, raising her torso upwards so that he could easily reach her breasts to kiss with tiny flicks of his tongue. “Join me,” he gasped against her tender flesh.

What could she say to that request other than a resounding ‘yes’? She flecked her hips towards him and said, “Why not? I’ll give it a go.”

Taking that as his cue, he went to press into her. “Oops! I forgot a little something,” he stated, and fiddled with the new condom. “Right; where was I?” he muttered, and plunged in, groaning with delight as he felt her warmth surround him. “I’m planning lots of fun with you as my PA. Do you need a trial period?” he asked, holding himself still within her.

“Let’s see if I can stand a month of this,” she suggested; and moved her hands from grasping his head downwards with determined strokes to claw at his bottom in encouragement. “We’ll work out the details later.”

He started to glide in and out, urging them both on. “I’m sure there will be benefits we can both enjoy,” he stuttered. “Give me a moment to thrash this out, and I’ll provide health benefits after…” 

Donna didn’t find out how that sentenced ended, because Peter was suddenly rather determined to speak only in grunts and groans when she moved in countersink to him. Anyone would think he was enjoying their act of passion, she thought. That was before she started thinking ‘like that, yes… like that!’ of course, and rather lost her thread of thought.

Funny how he seemed to hear her, because he did exactly as she wanted, and did indeed move like that. He did so until she was wordlessly crying out her joy, and he did likewise; enjoying the feel of her legs wrapped tightly around his body and her fingernails scraping down his back.

Smiling for the sheer hell of it, he shifted his weight off her and rolled to the side of the bed to dispose of the condom. 

“You alright?” she softly asked him, rubbing a hand down his soon-to-be-sore back, if it wasn’t already.

“Yes,” he replied. “Never better. At this rate we’re going to race through this box before the week is out.”

Donna gave him a wry smile. “How do you there’ll be more chances? You’ll probably dump me back at the theatre and never see me again. Some other woman with help you use up the box.”

“No. Fuck, no!” Peter shook his head fervently. “I’m not letting you go that easily. I may come across as the sort of bloke who jumps into bed with the first groupie, but I’m not.”

“Then how do you explain this?” she queried, pointing to the bed.

He frowned. “You’re not a fucking groupie, and you didn’t even know who I was until this morning.”

“That still makes me some sort of tart, letting this happen so quickly,” she reasoned sadly.

That got a glare from Peter, and he scooped her into his arms to briefly kiss her lips. “Where do you get these fucking ideas from? You are not a tart. We met, we were attracted to each other, we are adult enough to act on that and it was fantastic. Don’t get the wrong idea about us; we’re… and I hate to say it this way but we are magical together.” Yeah, he thought, that didn’t come out well. But he hoped Donna got the message that to him she wasn’t some one night stand.

“You don’t half talk shit,” she responded, covering her embarrassed delight that he had said that about them.

“And I’m normally paid for it,” he agreed. “You can have that one for free.”

“Aw, you’re so kind,” she mocked him.

“I’m also fucking freezing! I suppose we’d better get dressed,” he answered, somewhat reluctantly. “Work beckons.” He sighed.

She briefly kissed him this time. “Never mind, you’ll soon be all emo-ed up for tonight’s show, and you can saw a few women in half if you get bored.”

“I know what I’d like to do tonight to one particular woman, if you’ll let me,” he countered, teasing her. “But you’re right, the show must go on. Let’s get on with it.” He then released her and headed for the bathroom.

 

Twenty minutes later they were both washed and dressed again, Donna in her new tights; and the pair of them feeling quite satisfied with their day so far. The Audi car Peter used pulled up outside the Cromarty Hotel as they stepped outside, and Peter ushered Donna onto the backseat.

Donna glanced around; she didn’t remember the backseat being this small. And then she realised why; Peter was practically sitting on her lap, hogging all the room.

  
[](http://bas-math-girl.livejournal.com/pics/catalog/3337/29192)   
Sketch supplied by the lovely **dreamer_bee**  


“Something wrong, Donna?” he asked, leaning in when he noticed her frown.

She wriggled a bit and then retorted, “No, unless you’re mounting a full takeover bid for the back of the car.”

He merrily chuckled, and the driver cast him a puzzled look via the rear view mirror. This was not typical Peter Vincent behaviour. Peter flashed the driver a warning glare and returned his attention to Donna.

Taking a hold of her chin, he tenderly said, “I want you to know that the job offer was serious. When can you start?”

“Really?” she breathed. “I have to go into Henderson’s tomorrow as I promised I’d sort out some paperwork for them, but after that I’m free. The agency hasn’t given me my next assignment yet.”

“In that case, your temping days are almost over, Ms Noble,” he seriously told her. “You’re working for me now.”

“Is there a uniform?” she asked cheekily. “Because those tight fitting costumes I’ve seen on your assistants are not a good look on me.”

He brought his lips up to her ear to whisper, “No, you look better with absolutely nothing on.” He then pulled back to add, “I suppose it’s normal dress code. I’m sure we can come to some arrangement for the rest of the time.”

Donna could hardly believe the man that had started to appear as she spent more time with him. With every passing second he seemed to calm down and become more romantic. 

This illusion was suddenly shattered when the driver had to break hard to avoid hitting an idiotic kid riding his bike across the road in a dangerous manner.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Peter yelled angrily at the driver. “Are you trying to fucking kill us?”

“No, Mr Vincent. I was avoiding killing that cyclist,” the driver evenly replied.

“What him?” Peter wondered, straining round to look at the boy. “Little bastard! The things you see when you haven’t got a gun!” When he felt Donna’s hand on his arm, his voice dropped in tone and ferocity. “Sorry, but I thought we were going to slam into the back of the seat.”

The driver didn’t say anything, but Donna smiled encouragingly at Peter.

“Where shall I drop you off, Miss Noble? The theatre or somewhere else?” the driver called out.

“Call me Donna, please. And the theatre will be fine. I don’t live too far from there,” she answered his query.

“No,” Peter contradicted, and took hold of her hand. “We will drop you off at home. Just tell Sibley your address.”

“Well, if that’s okay,” she began, and blushed as she gave Sibley her home address.

“Very well, Miss,” he confirmed, and the car made a slight detour towards her home.

Donna was amused that her mum was unsuccessfully hiding the fact she was peering through the curtains at them as the car pulled up and Donna stepped out. Peter grabbed her hand at the last second and gave her fingertips a tender loving rub. “I’ll see you soon, at 9 o’clock sharp. Until then, take care, Donna.”

“And you,” she whispered back, ever mindful that Sibley could hear them.

She was waving them off when Sylvia joined her on the pavement. “Nice car,” Sylvia remarked.

“The owner’s not too bad either,” she replied, and made her way inside to face her mother’s questions.


	5. Chapter 5

As soon as they stepped over the threshold the questions started.

“Well? Who is he?” Sylvia demanded. “How did you meet him? Since when did you know someone like that who’d give you a lift home?”

“What do you mean ‘someone like that’?” queried Donna, rounding on her mother. “For your information his name is Peter, I met him at the Hammersmith Apollo, and he is doing very nicely for himself.”

They glared at each other as they stood in the kitchen.

“Don’t tell me you’ve gone and joined an escort agency now!” Sylvia gasped in shock. “Oh Donna! How could you?!”

After counting to ten, Donna still had a tentative hold on her anger; it was hanging by a thread. “I’ve had a lovely day out and YOU have to come along and spoil it for me!” she blazed. “Just for the record, I joined a temping agency and nothing else!”

Sylvia drew in a breath. “Okay, tell me about him and your day,” she said, trying to appease her daughter with a normal request. She then walked over to the sink and started to fill the kettle.

Relieved that her mother had dropped the accusations for the time being and that tea was finally being offered, Donna launched into her explanation. “Well, I went to the Apollo to give Peter an award from the local rag, because Nerys wasn’t well enough to go. He had to go to a meeting, and asked me to go along to take notes for him. As I wasn’t exactly busy, I thought ‘why not’ and went and acted as his PA. He must have liked what I do because he took me out to lunch to say ‘thank you’,” she gushed. “Not only that, and here comes the best bit; he offered me a job! I start the day after tomorrow!” She was practically jumping up and down with her good news.

“Donna, that is marvellous!” Sylvia answered with glee. She then glanced up at the clock sitting on the kitchen wall. “You must have had an awfully long lunch,” she commented.

“The meeting took quite a time. Lunch was fabulous! He took me to this really posh place. We generally chatted this afternoon after lunch and then he had to go and sort out some technicality.” Donna beamed back at her.

“So the whole day was basically a job interview,” Sylvia stated. “You’re very lucky that he was impressed with your secretarial skills.”

“Yes, he did say I made an impression,” Donna replied, trailing a finger along the wooden top of the table. “Have you heard of him? He said he was on telly the other day.”

“What’s the rest of his name? I might have done,” Sylvia admitted.

“He’s Peter Vincent. Usually he has a magic act in Las Vegas, but he’s over here on a special tour,” Donna offered.

“No!” Sylvia stumbled slightly in shock and clamped her hand over her mouth. “It never is! He was on Alan Titchmarsh the other afternoon, doing this thing with a coffin for Halloween.” She then added, “He looks a bit weird, if you ask me. All that long hair and funny goatee...” 

Donna felt affronted on his behalf. “Looks aren’t everything!” she snapped. “He’s been nothing but nice to me.”

“Did you go out dressed like that?” Sylvia wondered as she eyed Donna up and down.

“Of course I did! You saw me come home.” Was her mother losing the plot? Daft cow!

Sylvia sighed. “No wonder he was nice to you. That dress is pure man bait, if you ask me. You’re showing off all your goods. He was probably spending all his time trying to get a look down the front.”

“He certainly did not!” Donna insisted. She knew this for a fact because he had spent his time doing something else entirely.

“You just make sure that he doesn’t in future,” Sylvia advised her. 

“Yes, Mum,” Donna replied with exasperation. Good grief! Didn’t her mother think she could handle herself? Obviously not. And how sad was that as a statement of their relationship?

 

Donna was sitting at a desk in Henderson’s main office the following morning feeling very pleased with the progress she had made when there was an enormous kerfuffle near the main entrance. 

A tall blonde in an immaculate black suit rushed into the room beside herself with excitement. “You’ll never guess who just walked in to reception?” she quizzed the whole of the assembled work staff in front of her. “Only Peter Vincent!”

“Who?” some bloke at the back inevitably asked, and there was an answering growl of disbelief from several women.

“He’s that sexy bloke they had on The One Show last night, that does Gothic magic tricks,” the youngest member of the team, Amy, supplied. “Don’t you know anything?”

Donna found herself standing up in surprise. What the hell was he doing there? This had better not be a prank! As she went to storm outside and confront him, he appeared sauntering into the office with a young woman clasping each arm, swooning with delight.

“Thank you! You are so kind,” he said to one of them smoothly. “I would never have found my way around this place on my own.” It was at this point that he spotted her across from him on the other side of the office. “Ah! There she is!” he declared.

Lots of heads swivelled in her direction, and she suddenly wanted to kill him with her bare hands. Damn him for appearing at work, damn him for showing her up, and most of all, damn him for looking so delicious in his trademark black leather trousers and coat, with a chest defining black shirt underneath.

Rosemary to the side of Donna stood up and just about fainted on the spot when they all seemed to be looking at her. “Do you mean me?” she asked weakly, pointing at her chest.

Peter flashed Rosemary a beautiful smile to go with his apology. “I’m sorry, lovely lady,” he proclaimed, opening his arms wide in a sympathetic gesture. “Another day, perhaps, but today I am here for Donna.” 

He then kept his focus on her as he broke free of his fawning audience and sauntered over.

She opened and closed her mouth as she fought for the right words. Eventually she chose, “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to take you for lunch,” he purred, reaching out to take her hand. With a gentlemanly swoosh, he raised fingers to his mouth in order to kiss them. “I don’t know about you, but I am very hungry.” His eyes bored in hers, daring her to misread his message.

“But Peter, I’m working here! I can’t just swan off and spend time with you,” she half-heartedly protested.

He flicked his gaze to the clock. “I think you’ll find that you can,” he said quietly. “It’s five minutes to dinner time.”

“Is it?” She gulped in an attempt to calm the butterflies that weren’t only fluttering but were jumping anywhere they could find a foothold in her body. “Then I’d love to have lunch with you.” There was no other way to describe it; she was utterly mesmerised by him. Everybody else in that office ceased to exist when he was near.

The words were hardly out of her mouth before he was confidently leading her away, wrapping an arm possessively around her waist to guide her. 

“Thank you everyone,” he announced to the room but no one in particular. “I shall return Donna in one piece to you all later.” And with that, he swept her out of the room.

“Lucky bitch!” one disgruntled woman remarked, and there were several agreements.

 

Outside, Donna wasn’t surprised to see Peter’s car in the slightest. “I know you mean well, but you shouldn’t have done this,” she chided him as he helped her get in.

He didn’t so much as throw himself in next to her as glided and slotted himself onto the back seat. With a dismissive shrug, he countered, “It’s your last day, and I wanted to see you. There’s no harm in that, is there?”

“I suppose not,” she reluctantly agreed. “But if the job with you goes tits up, I will need a decent reference from these people.” 

Peter grabbed her hand to kiss it again. “Then I shall have to make sure that it doesn’t.” He placed several kisses from her wrist upwards.

She tried to shake him off. “Not here!” she hissed.

“This is my fucking car, and I can fucking do this if I want to,” he retorted pithily, grabbing her hand back. His thumbs swirled over her knuckles as he calmed down. “You don’t know how much willpower it took not to come here earlier,” he leaned in to tell her directing into her ear. “In fact, I wanted to come last night.”

She snorted in amusement. “I bet you did anyway,” she remarked.

“Oh, you know,” he continued to croon. “Showers can be very refreshing.” It was at that point that the hand he had placed on her hip started to stray. “But I am very willing to share.”

Normally she would have been beating off such attention, but his mouth had gradually eased its way so close that she wanted to know what was going to happen next; in fact she was willing it to happen. “Sharing sounds nice,” she lamely replied. Well, would you be able to come with a witty retort if a plump, full, sexy bottom lip was making its way towards you?

By the time his lips landed on hers she had already opened them in readiness, dying to feel the soft press of his flesh as he generously shared a kiss. It was so gentle at first, but the temptation was too great and they hungrily mouthed one another.

Peter only broke the kiss in order to growl at the driver, “Fucking hurry up and get there!” His attention was quickly returned to tasting Donna.

For some reason she hadn’t been paying any attention to where they were going, so pulling up outside a posh hotel was a complete surprise. “I’m not dressed for this place!” she squealed out in shock.

“Don’t worry,” he comforted her, “I’ve ordered room service.”

 

Five minutes later Donna found herself back in the same hotel room as the day before. It was starting to feel like her second home. Part of that reason had been the snogging session they had shared in the lift before practically jumping each other as they entered the room. There had been a strong sense of déjà vu about it. “What happened to lunch?” she mused as he ground against her by the door.

“We’ll eat, don’t worry about that,” he managed to say as he attacked her with vigour. 

Those hands of his were all over her body; caressing, squeezing, fondling and rubbing in a way that sent her senses singing. How did he act like an octopus without making her want to smack him in the face? He certainly had a special talent. 

At that point she felt his fingers fumble with the button at her waist. “Let’s lose the skirt,” he suggested as the zip slid down.

Perhaps she should have worn a half-slip? Bashfully, she stepped out of the skirt that pooled around her ankles and took in the delighted smirk that spread across his face. Or should that be a leer? He was definitely pleased, that much was sure. 

“I’ve got an even better idea,” she proposed. “Let’s lose the wall and find somewhere miles more comfortable.”

“I really like your thinking, Donna,” he smoothly enthused; and took her by surprise when he lifted her up and threw her, fireman-like, over his shoulder. “Now where shall I put you?” he asked, addressing her bottom. “Bed or bath tub?”

“The bath tub would be equally uncomfortable, you silly sod!” she huffed.

“I dunno,” he answered vaguely; but she totally missed the playful eyebrow waggle. “It would mean getting naked...”

She thumped his back. “Just get me to the bed, you piece of sh… Oh! You did!” she remarked as she suddenly found herself on the soft covers.

“Fucking hell!” he cried out as he gripped his lower back. “Remind me to never do that again!”

She dutifully mimed making a note on her hand.


	6. Chapter 6

Peter glared at her in disbelief. “You micky taking cow!” he snapped. “I am going to make you pay for that.”

Donna merely smirked back at him. “Not with a bad back you won’t,” she said and pointed to where he was still clutching his torso. “I’ll tell you what I will do, though, if you like.” The smirk turned into a saucy smile that reached parts other smiles cannot reach. “Lie on the bed and I’ll play at being nurse for you.”

“Nurse… as in Nurse Ratched?” he asked warily. 

She had walked up to him by now and was smoothing her hands enticingly over the exposed part of his chest whilst toying with his buttons. “I was thinking more along the lines of Florence Nightingale, or better still…,” she added carefully, “how about Nurse Bernie?”

“Nice. Will I have to sing karaoke?” he wondered, already thinking of possibilities.

“Erm. You can make a noise if you like.” With a faint push with her finger she prodded him towards the bed.

He obeyed without comment, and gingerly laid down on the bed; letting out the odd wince as he did.

“Do you want me to do your back or your front?” she asked.

“Yes, do both,” he eagerly answered.

She sighed. “Peter, I can’t spend longer than an hour away from Henderson’s, you know that. I have to get back to work.”

He reached out to grasp both her hands. “Listen, I don’t give a flying fuck about Henderson’s. I’ll even pay your wages for this afternoon if necessary to stop you worrying. All I care about is you being here with me. So forget about all that shit and have some fun, with me. Can you do that?” he asked, pulling her closer until they were nose to nose.

“But…”

“No buts,” he insisted, interrupting her angsty reply. “From today you are my employee, and I promise you can write yourself the most glowing reference anyone has ever seen. You are mine, end of.” He then grinned wickedly at her. “Nurse Donna, I need your special touch on my poor back.”

Donna let herself relax. He was right, it didn’t matter; she’d done most of what she had wanted to do at Henderson’s, and now she was free to explore this relationship with him. In that precise moment the logical thing was to kiss him and run her hands all over his body. What could be wrong with doing that? “Is doing this part of my new job?” she wondered.

He thought about that. “It’s a perk…,” he began to say. “I hadn’t intended to put it in writing. There’s also a key to the executive washroom, if you are interested.”

“You’ve got an executive washroom?!” She was impressed by that.

“No, just a key,” he joked; and was delighted to see her giggle above him. 

Using her best professional voice, Donna tried not to say too breathily, “Let’s pop you open.” 

That caught his interest. He quite fancied being ‘popped’; and thoughts about the pain in his back started to ease away. The process began with Donna taking hold of his shirt and slowly pushing each button through its buttonhole. Why couldn’t she be a bit quicker?

Peter opened his mouth to grumble about the slow progress she was making getting to his flesh. “I was hoping… yes that! Do that!” he cried as she lowered her head and licked his lower abdomen using only the tip of her tongue.

Nimble experienced fingers undid the fastening at his waist as she continued to nuzzle the hairy trail she found there. Unsurprisingly he was showing signs of interest in intra-bedroom activities, and Donna could not resist raising her head to smirk knowingly at him. “Not yet, naughty boy,” she crooned. “I need to strip first.”

“Me or you?” he wondered, not sure which he wanted to happen first.

She deliberately glided her finger along his covered shaft to tempt him. “We’ll start with you and then we’ll see.”

He reached up grab her arm but she batted his hand away and waggled her index finger in his direction. “Ah, ah, ah! You are to keep perfectly still while I do all the work. Nurse Donna will make it all better for you. Now lay back and let me get on with it.”

“Yes nurse,” he mumbled, delighted with this turn of events. Fuck this was good! Her tugging his trousers off was fast becoming a habit, and it was one he had instantly loved.

Having dragged his trousers down and off his legs, she stopped and sat back to regard him.

“What?!” he almost whimpered. “What’s the problem?”

She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I think I need to get into my special nurse’s uniform.”

“You what?” he inevitably asked; and then cried out his appreciation when she wriggled about to strip down to her bra and knickers. “That’s the best fucking uniform I’ve ever seen.” He groaned even more when she removed her bra and smoothed her hands up his legs.

He prepared himself for her to edge up his body so that he could make the most of her noble (or should that be Noble?) assets; but he frowned in confusion when she didn’t. “What the fuck…?” Just as he started to demand to know what she was doing, she started to caress and kiss his legs. 

Ooh. This was new. Feather light touches turned seductive as she reached his thighs, paying careful attention to his inner thighs. It didn’t help that she kept making ‘accidental’ touches on his burgeoning body.

Just as her hands began to smooth over the front of his underwear, Donna mischievously told him, “Oops! We were supposed to be dealing with your back. Turn over!”

“What?!” he blurted out in disappointment this time as he found himself being spun onto his front; causing his erect arousal to dig painfully into the mattress. “Donna, what the fuck are you playing at?”

He felt her straddle his hips, press her full breasts into his back and stroke her hands all over his flesh. 

“I’m helping your back,” she whispered low into his ear.

“Maybe; but you aren’t fucking helping my cock!” he spat out.

“Peter!” she admonished him, slapping his bottom lightly. 

“Well stop pissing about then,” he defended himself; and smirked when she didn’t swat his body again. 

“Anyone would think that you don’t want me to caress your aching muscles,” she said offhand.

“Oh I do,” he contradicted her. “But you’re dealing with the wrong aching muscles, love. You’ll find them round the front.”

She laughed with a deep throaty laugh, still swishing her hands over him. “You’d do practically anything to get your end away.”

He considered that. “I wouldn’t exactly say anything,” he replied thoughtfully, “unless a certain ginger haired woman is concerned. And if she doesn’t climb off my fucking back I am going to tan her arse!”

“Oh yeah? I’ve got you pinned, Magic boy,” she riled him. “There’s no way you can get out of this position.”

“Want to lay odds on that?” he wondered.

She merely smirked and wriggled on his torso as she deliberately tormented him by sweeping her breasts over his back. The sensation of her nipples hardening as she rocked against him and her warm breath blowing across his neck was the last straw. With a roar, he reared himself up onto his knees. Donna let out a squeal of protest, but he was ignoring that as he forced his body to turn on the bed whilst grabbing her leg to keep her in place. A loud shriek followed as she tried not to fall onto the carpet. Fortunately Peter easily stopped her plummeting off the bed, and he achieved his goal of her sprawled out on top of his body.

“You stupid sod!” she yelled out, and smacked his shoulder. “You almost had me on the deck then!”

“Ah but I didn’t,” he smugly pointed out.

“Never mind all that. You could do your back permanently in,” she complained, adding in a prod to his chest.

“Do you honestly think I’d risk doing my fucking back in if I was in any danger? Come here, you silly bitch, and let me show you what I can do,” he tried to entice her, placing his hands on her back to crush her body down so that he could capture her lips. 

“You fight dirty,” Donna commented when he allowed her to draw breath.

“Get used to it,” he retorted in sultry tones, and languidly kissed her again. “Now let’s get rid of these fucking knickers.”

“Make me,” she petulantly replied, knowing he would love the challenge. 

Peter immediately rolled them sideways and gripped the elastic that guarded her lower torso. “The customer is always right, and I know exactly what will help heal my poor aching back,” he informed her as he teased the flimsy cotton gradually down her legs. “So when I say I need this thing out of the way, that’s what will happen.”

“Oh really?” she snorted in disbelief. “You’re my customer now, eh? What exactly does that make me?!”

He frowned as he tossed her knickers to the side. “What are you on about now?! Are you being a scatty cow by hearing some insult that doesn’t exist? At the moment you are my nurse, tomorrow morning you’ll be my PA, and tomorrow night you’ll probably be my bed buddy. Or were you after a grander title?” He caught hold of her foot and started placing butterfly kisses along her arch, and followed a path that led up her leg to pastures green. 

“How grand are you offering…,” she began to ask, “just out of interest?”

He had reached her inner thigh by this point and stopped to consider this. “Play your cards right, and who knows?” he teased. “I thought we were a bit old to be called boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“What would you call us?” she wondered as his mouth returned deliciously to her flesh, his hot breath wafting to entice her as he got closer and closer, before finally kissing her intimately. 

“Stop worrying,” he faintly murmured, his attention solely on exploring her folds with his finger tip. “Does it matter beyond me wanting to fuck you and you wanting me to?”

Her next words were whipped away by an erotic groan that escaped from her mouth. Good grief, he knew just the right pressure to use! But she did manage to gasp out, “Condom.” 

Peter briefly kissed her hip as he moved to open a nearby drawer, and he brought out a single packet to tear open. 

“Let me,” she softly offered, and took the fresh condom out of his hand.

He showed his pleasure by returning to intimately caress her whilst he leaned forward and kissed her deeply; his own groan of arousal captured within her mouth. Once the condom was in place, he eased his body down as she raised her pelvis in invitation; and they met in a slightly frenzied coupling, eager to both give and take. 

After some minutes, he released her mouth and sought out her breasts, kissing, licking and sucking as he went, encouraging her nipples to peak wantonly. An act that sent delicious pools of desire deep into her groin. “How’s your back?” she gasped out.

“I’ll let you know; but you may be on blow job duties tomorrow,” he huffed out as he continued to thrust rhythmically. 

“Oh no I won’t,” she insisted, and unhooked her legs from around him, to attempt to roll them.

Laughing, he let her succeed so that she was on top of him. Looking up at her perched above him, he declared, “You really are beautiful like that!” 

“Prawn!” she snorted in disbelief. 

His grin continued as he took hold of her hands so that she could balance more easily, and she quickened her movements on him, causing him to thrust back. On and on they moved, slickly urging their bodies to maximum pleasure. With low feral roars they both sought their own climax, continuing to enjoy it until she collapsed onto his chest.

They shared brief kisses before she fell to his side, and he grimaced as he disposed of the now used condom. 

"What?" she asked when he frowned.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** this is long overdue, and I apologise for the shocking lack of sex in this chapter.

_They shared brief kisses before she fell to his side, and he grimaced as he disposed of the now used condom._

_"What?" she asked when he frowned._

“I’ll tell you what,” he told her. “Your first job tomorrow is to arrange for you to go on the pill as soon as possible. These things are a fucking pain.”

Donna decided to play devil’s advocate. “More painful than childbirth?” she queried.

“Don’t be arsey. You know what I mean,” he argued. “We can be more spontaneous and adventurous if we haven’t got to worry about ripping open Durex packets.”

“How adventurous are we talking about here?” she warily wondered. “Because I don’t do weirdo stuff.”

“Nor do I… if I’m not drunk,” he admitted. He then lovingly caressed her cheek. “I’m not planning anything dodgy, not with you. I just want to make love to you without worrying about having a condom. Is that okay with you too?” 

“What do you mean ‘not with me’? Who are you planning on having dodgy sex with?” she demanded to know.

“Oh fuck, no! I don’t want sex with anyone else,” he quickly tried to appease her. “In fact I’m almost tempted to say…”

That caught her attention; especially when he blushed. “What? What are you tempted to say?” 

Whatever it was, he wasn’t going to say it out loud. Instead he playfully slapped her on the bottom. “Come on, get your arse in gear; you’ve got to finish off your afternoon and I have rehearsals to do.”

“You cheeky sod!” she chastised him, and whacked him back. 

Still laughing, he gripped her wrists and pinned her beneath him. “The one and only. Now stop tempting me with your naked body, we’ve got work to do.”

“If I must,” she huffed, and grinned back when he released his hold to help her up off the bed. 

‘Blimey!’ she thought when she eventually left the room. This new job couldn’t be more bizarre if it tried, but she was very willing to give it a go for some reason. Perhaps the sexy body of one Peter Vincent had something to do with it? Yes, probably, she concurred. 

 

By the time she sneaked into Henderson’s she was only an hour and a half late back after lunch. That wasn’t too bad, was it? Well, she thought that until she was spotted crawling onto her seat.

“Where the hell have you been?” Rosemary demanded to know as she peered over her desk partition. “Old man Henderson was looking for you!”

“Was he?” Donna feigned to care about it. “I was only out having lunch.”

“Didn’t look like that was all you were having,” Rosemary muttered. “Well, if you’re not daft you’d have had him.”

“Who?” Donna asked as innocently as she could.

Rosemary glared back in disbelief. “Don’t give me that! Do you honestly think that you can swan off with Peter Vincent after he has specifically come in to get you, and nobody will think you two are having an affair?”

“We are not having an affair!” Donna hotly denied. “That implies we are cheating on other people and that is certainly not the case. He isn’t involved with anyone at the moment, and besides, he wanted to discuss my new position with him tomorrow.” When Rosemary suddenly looked extra eager, she quickly amended her words to, “I mean, I start a new job with him in the morning and we had to thrash out some of the details; so don’t start with the accusations. I get enough of that with my mother.”

Ooh, this was almost too good to miss! Rosemary swept her gaze around the room to check that no one else was paying attention, and then she dragged her chair over to where Donna sat finishing off the report she had to file. Ducking her head to smother her words, Rosemary asked, “What sort of thing has your mum been saying about him?”

“Never you mind,” Donna huffed as she tried to ignore Rosemary’s imploring expression; but she soon caved in order to gain the opportunity to complain and boast about it for a minute. “When Mum saw him help me out of his car she had the cheek to ask if I was part of an escort agency now”

“No!” Rosemary gasped in sympathetic shock.

Donna nodded. “And she said the dress I had worn was man-bait.”

There was a head tilt from Rosemary as she considered this. Well, if Donna wore anything remotely revealing with her curvy figure any bloke would be attracted to her; so it made perfect sense. “What else did she say?”

“Once she realised she’d seen Peter on Alan Titchmarsh that was it, she was officially impressed with him after that endorsement; although she did grumble about the hair and beard.”

“It’s a look not many men can pull off,” Rosemary commented. “And you say you’ll be working with him tomorrow?”

“I did.” Donna grimaced. “I’ll be taking over as his PA whilst he is in Britain.”

“You lucky cow! What about when he goes back to America? Will you be going with him?” Rosemary considered, anxious for her friend’s future employment.

“I honestly don’t know, but that’s months away so I’ll worry about it then. But he made it sound as though he would consider taking me with him,” Donna confessed. “That’s only between you and me, as it could all go pear-shaped by the end of his tour.” 

“I’ll keep schtum if you get me some tickets,” Rosemary half joked.

“Done!” Donna eagerly agreed. “And I’ll even get you a backstage pass.”

“Oh Donna, you’re the best!” Rosemary enthused. “As long as I get a signed photo from Peter Vincent I’ll be pleased.” She then pushed her chair away, and returned to her desk.

“Perhaps I should have stopped at that,” Donna muttered to herself as she turned back to her report and hastily finished it before Mr Henderson could return and moan at her for having not completing her task.

 

“Hello! Mum, I’m home!” she called out as she took her key out of the front door lock and entered her home. 

“Hello, love,” Sylvia greeted her as she appeared at the doorway drying her hands on a tea towel. “How did your day go?”

“Fine,” Donna answered, and hung her coat up on the nearby coat stand. “You’ll never believe this but I erm… I met Peter accidentally at work, so he took me to lunch,” she supplied as she followed Sylvia into the kitchen.

Sylvia stopped and stared at her. “What, your new boss Peter Vincent, you mean? How did you manage to run into each other?”

“Oh, you know,” Donna replied, turning her attention onto running her finger across the surface of the kitchen table. “He just happened to turn up.”

“In a pig’s eye he did!” Sylvia snorted in disbelief. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he deliberately went searching for you.” She then went back to cooking their dinner.

“I’m sure he didn’t,” Donna lied, and started to set the table.

“Oh yeah?” Sylvia jabbed the potatoes boiling on the hob at the same time as she spoke. Satisfied that they were done, she turned the gas out and set about draining them off. “He seemed a bit keen on you when I saw him yesterday, if you ask me.”

“Mum! You only saw him for… what… thirty seconds. How on earth can you say that?” Donna complained.

“I’ve got eyes in my head,” Sylvia retorted. “I ain’t completely daft yet.”

“No, not yet,” Donna murmured. “Since you were looking, what do you think of him?”

“He seemed nice enough.” Sylvia answered and dished out the potatoes onto three plates. “It was an impressive car he brought you home in, and I assume he has pots of money.”

“Would you be interested in meeting him in person?” Donna proposed. “There’s more to him then what he owns.”

“I’m sure there is,” Sylvia agreed. They both moved the now filled plates onto the kitchen table, to eat. “But him coming here? I’m not sure. I’ve got nothing to offer someone as famous as that.”

Donna giggled. “Don’t worry, Mum. He’s very approachable.”

“We’ll see,” Sylvia mused. “Now eat your dinner and I’ll call Dad down.”

 

Donna rolled over in bed as her phone bleeped loudly that she had got a text message. ‘What on earth is the time?’ she wondered as she peered blearily at her bedside clock. It was almost half passed midnight.

Just as she read the message that asked “Are you awake?” her phone rang; and she instantly answered.

“Hello, Peter. What can I do for you?”

“Hello Donna,” he purred down the phone. “Where are you?”

“In bed. Where did you think I was?” she asked.

“Oh good!” Peter commented, ignoring the question. “Shall I come and join you?”

She laughed. “Nice idea, but my mum might disapprove.”

“Then come to me,” he schmoozed. “Come on, Donna. You could be here in minutes.”

“Very true, but I have to be get up in the morning and start a new job. I have this new boss who might turn out to horrible, and I was told to be there at nine o’clock sharp.”

“I know… since you won’t travel until the morning, let’s make it eight o’clock; then we can have a pre-work chat,” he carefully enunciated. “Or we could have some telephone sex right now,” he then offered. 

Inevitably she laughed louder for a few seconds. “What were you going to suggest?” she asked in a low voice.

Peter grinned in triumph. “How about I describe exactly what I’d like to do to you, and vice versa?”

“Well,” she started to consider when there was a shout from immediately outside her bedroom door.

“Donna, are you messing about on the phone? You’ve got work in the morning, and I need to sleep!” Sylvia grouched.

Stifling a giggle, Donna whispered into the mouthpiece, “That’s my mum. I think she’s trying to listen in; so we’ll have to go with the early plan.”

Groaning with frustration, Peter did his best to sound pleasant. “Okay, I’ll see you bright and early, but you’ll have to make this up to me.”

“Rightio,” Donna agreed. “Goodnight, Peter.”

“Goodnight, Donna. Dream of me.”

“Saucy sod!” she remarked as she switched the phone off and settled back down under the covers.

 

The arrangement was that she would work from Peter’s hotel suite for her first day and after that they would be on the road, using a converted coach as their base. It wasn’t something she entirely looked forward to, not having a proper office; but Peter had assured her that an office did exist in his new flat he would be renting from the following week. She was sure she could cope with hotel life for the best part of a week. It might get old after that.

As Donna strolled across the hotel foyer the receptionist called out, “Miss Noble! I was asked to hand you this…”

Donna found herself being presented with a keycard to gain entry into Peter’s rooms. When had he arranged that? And did this mean he was too lazy to just get up and open the door? Anyway, shaking off the thought, she made her way into the lift and was soon zooming towards the penthouse suite. 

To her total lack of surprise, he was lying in bed when she cautiously entered the suite and pushed open the bedroom door. Thank goodness he was alone otherwise she didn’t know what she would have done! A sleepy face greeted her with a smile.

“Hello beautiful! You got here nice and early, I see.”

“Hello,” she replied. “Did you want me to start by making some tea?”

Peter dragged himself into a sitting position, leaning against the headboard. “No, I want you over here first. I’ve been waiting for you.”

“What, all night?” she scoffed. “I doubt it.”

“It’s fucking true. I kept myself intact for you. Care to come and check for yourself?” Peter added in a point towards the bedclothes that vaguely covered him.

Should she risk it and allow him to distract her within seconds of entering his room? “I’m supposed to working this morning.”

“Not for another hour,” he reasoned, and beckoned her over. “I’ve not even had my kiss yet,” he grumbled, eagerly grasping her hand to bring her closer. “And we know how fucking rude it would be not to kiss when we meet.”

“Oh we do,” she agreed as she allowed him to pull her onto the bed beside him. “I suppose I’ll just have to let you…”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** back to the plot; which sort of exists, if you recall as a Who version of Fifty Shades of Grey.

Her next words were wiped away by Peter bringing their lips together, determined as he was to snog and then coerce her into having sex with him; especially as he had promised his body they’d have a very good time together.

“Where the fuck are you going?” he complained when she pulled away seconds later.

“I can hear someone moving about outside. Did you order breakfast?” she wondered.

“Oh yes!” he remembered. “I thought we could do with some sustenance before we get down to things.” He then shot her an expectant look.

“What?!”

He pointed at his body. “Would you open the door and let them in? I’m in no state to get out of the bed; especially if a photographer is hanging about outside.”

“There was no such thing outside when I came in, you prawn! And they’d never publish a photo of you with a hard on,” she reasoned.

Peter shrugged. “May be, but we wouldn’t want such a shot to become viral on the ‘net when we both know we’d rather you dealt with it” He waggled his eyebrows and briefly glanced towards what needed being dealt with.

Trying to ignore his antics, Donna got up off the bed. “You are an utter tart, Peter Vincent!”

Why deny it? “Fuck yeah! You know you love me for it,” he crooned.

Needing to bring him down a peg or two, she asked, “What makes you think that’s the part of you I love?”

“So you’re confessing to loving me already? My, you are forward!” He burst into laughter as she swatted his arm.

“Just you…” Words failed her for a second. “I’ll go and see if it’s your breakfast.” She then made for the main door.

When she was only two steps away someone lightly rapped on the door, so Donna had no qualms about opening it. “Breakfast!” a young hotel porter brightly trilled, and handed her a laden tray.

She had just said her thanks and had turned to kick the door shut when a voice called out from the corridor.

“Excuse me! Miss!”

Donna found herself gazing at a brown haired well-dressed woman passed middle age who stood anxiously peering around her into the room beyond. “Yes? Can I help you?” she offered, expecting the woman to be lost or something.

“I wonder if you could,” the woman replied, gaining some professional composure. “I am looking for an old friend of mine by the name of Peter. Is he in there?”

It would seem the autograph hunters were already up and bothering people. Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, Donna asked in return, “What makes you think your friend is in here? What exactly are you accusing me of?”

“Oh no! I didn’t mean anything like that!” the woman tried to back-pedal. “I’m terribly sorry but I was just wondering.”

“No harm done,” Donna tried to say brightly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, my breakfast is getting cold.”

“Who were you chatting to with the door wide open?” Peter asked as soon as she had shut the door and plonked the breakfast tray down. He immediately picked up a piece of toast to munch.

“It was just some old chancer who was pretending to know you to gain an autograph,” she explained. “Aren’t you going to throw on something before you start eating?”

“Nope,” he denied around the mouthful of sausage he was now eating with enthusiasm from his fork. “Do you want some?”

Knowing him this was an innuendo. “Which sausage are you referring to?”

“For you, darling, you can take your pick.” He saucily waggled his eyebrows. “And I’m always open to offers.”

“You tart!” she retorted, and stole a rasher of bacon. “Is there anything you particularly wanted organising this morning, while I think to ask?” She sat down and watched him eat.

Peter waved a cautionary finger at her. “Ah ah ah! You don’t start work yet, this is ‘us’ time we having. All that nonsense can wait until after nine o’clock.”

“But Peter…”

“No, Donna!” he interrupted her. “I won’t fucking discuss anything until we’ve finished our promised fun and then you can have your business stuff. Now…” He flung his knife and fork down as he finished eating, and stood up decisively. “I’ve got to clean my teeth, and then you, young lady, will come talk to me, among other things.”

She teased him by asking, “Why? What are you keeping in the bathroom?”

He momentarily glared in return. “You know very well what I might keep in there; although I’d like to add a naked ginger beauty that I know.”

“I’d better hurry up and get out of her way then.” 

Donna made to move away from him, but he grabbed her wrist to drag her close.

“I’m talking about you, you annoying bitch. Who else would I want anywhere near me? Now don’t do the modesty act with me as we both know you are fucking sexy,” he purred into her ear before ghosting his lips across her cheek. “If I don’t go and do my teeth now I am liable to take you, right here over the table; and I don’t think you’d approve of me ripping your clothes off.”

“Too right I wouldn’t,” she snorted. “Go on, and I’ll be ready waiting for you when you come out.”

With a feral growl at her, he bounded into the bathroom and reappeared three minutes later looking extremely pleased with himself. “Free of grease and minty fresh,” he boasted as he spotted her sitting on the bed, devoid of any clothing. “Remind me where we had got up to.”

She smiled her sweetest smile. “We had shared our morning kiss, and you were opening the negotiations for anything else.”

“So I was,” he agreed, kneeling on the bed beside her and leaning in to resume their kiss. “At least you haven’t got to strip off my trousers this time.”

“I can see everything is ready,” she noted; which was true since he’d also thought to put on a condom.

“Then I’ll begin,” he breathily declared, and captured her lips. “Did you want the phone sex version, with the running commentary, or did you want me on mute?”

“It’s too early for too much noise, so I’ll go for the quieter option,” she replied, pulling him closer.

With a happy groan, he pressed her body to him; urging her on with his caresses. “Shame, because I’m told my voice is a great turn on,” he boasted in-between mouthing passionate kisses.

Deciding she’d never shut him up if she didn’t act drastically, she retorted, “Just get on with it.”

What? “You don’t just get fucking on with it,” Peter grumbled before deciding he was hornier than he was appalled by her words. “But since you insist…” 

He reached down and carefully lifted her knees.

“What are you doing…?” she started to ask, but it soon became apparent when he delved in with his fingertip to run it between her folds.

“I’m making sure you are ready. What did you think I was doing? Producing a rabbit?” he wondered; and yelped when she smacked his arm.

“I was only asking!” she countered.

“And I was only…” But he didn’t get the chance to say any more than that because she had clamped her mouth over his, thrusting her tongue in to sucking on his in time to the strokes of his finger as it heightened her arousal.

When her breathing hitched as she bucked against his hand he knew she was good and ready for him, although the wetness was an even bigger clue, obviously; as was her little moaning puffs. In answer, he removed his hand to cup her bottom and lift her lower torso so that he could enter her in one easy swoop. 

“God, you feel good!” he immediately exclaimed. “Which reminds me; you need to go to the Family Planning Clinic, seeing as we are going to keep doing this.” 

“It’s an ironic title, don’t you think, in a way,” she commented as she raised her knees to wrap her legs around his hips.

“I suppose so, considering you don’t want children.” He then noticed her brief pained expression. “Sorry! Am I hurting you?”

“No, it isn’t that.” She guiltily looked away.

“Then what? Are you saying you want children?” he tenderly asked.

A sad look appeared on her face. “Well... I had wanted children at some point but it doesn’t look as though that’ll happen.”

“It could,” he considered as he continued to gently thrust. “I am not saying you have to say yes right this second, but it’s something we could discuss if you like.”

“Are you saying you want children too?” she wondered incredulously.

“I’d love to have a child,” he confirmed. “I get offers of sex but no one ever says anything about a family. So if you can stand the thought....”

“With me?”

“Just an idea, for the future... Nghhhhh!” He gasped with delighted horror when her arms increased their hold around his neck to hug him tightly, almost blocking his airway. Then she was kissing him fervently, hungrily moving on him whilst biting at him and grabbing handfuls of his skin in her fevered passion. “Oh my fucking god, Donna! I’m going to...”

A cry of ecstasy roared out as he came, almost deafening her.

Soon he lay panting on top of her. “Bloody hell, woman! Talk about weapons of mass destruction. My fucking back! Did you have to scratch me so much? Not that I'm complaining but it’s a good job I’ll keep my jacket on tonight on stage.” His grin grew more mischievous. “We can’t have everyone knowing what we get up to.”

“Yeah, because no one will ever be able to guess,” she sarcastically agreed.

“You did it deliberately to mark your claim,” he accused her, and then chuckled. “Who can blame you? I’m gorgeous.”

“And rather lacking in the modesty stakes,” she stated. “Who would have guessed that one either?”

The satisfied smile stayed on his face. “What’s the time?” Peter asked as he flicked his gaze towards the bedside alarm clock.

“Just gone twenty past nine,” Donna answered. “Time for me to start work since I should have begun ages ago.”

“Well…” Peter grinned at her. “I think we need to have a look at the tour coach before you get down to the paperwork. That way you’ll know what else to organise.”

Conceding this as a fair point, she agreed to go with him once they had washed and dressed.

 

They’d just stepped out of the lift when the same woman as before called out, “Peter? Peter! It’s me!”

Donna was stunned when they both turned to look at the woman and Peter visibly paled before catching himself. “Sarah Jane. Long-time no see,” he murmured in greeting. “What brings you here?”

Sarah Jane flashed Donna a ‘now do you believe me?’ look before answering him. “I just wanted to have a quick word with you, if I may. I don’t want to disturb you and your new friend.”

“Oh, of course!” he exclaimed, in realisation. “I believe you might have met. This is Donna Noble, my new PA. Donna, this is a very old friend from many years ago, called Sarah Jane Smith. She used to be a reporter.”

“I still am,” Sarah Jane stated proudly. “I work freelance. Peter and I were very close at one time.” She had aimed the last piece of information towards Donna, wanting to gain some revenge for being dismissed up in the corridor and to unbalance her. Sarah Jane did not like the way Peter seemed to be favouring this new girl. 

Peter kept hold of Donna’s arm. “I don’t have a great deal of time, so what did you want to say to me?”

“Well, I…” Sarah Jane glanced nervously at Donna. “I was hoping to talk to you in private.”

“There’s nothing you can say that can’t be said in front of Donna,” Peter insisted. “So…?”

A faint blush appeared on Sarah Jane’s cheeks. “I was only going to ask how you are, and reconnect with you.”

Anger flashed across Peter’s features. “I am very well, thanks; as I’m sure you know. It’s always nice to you see you again, but we have to go. Come on, Donna.”

Donna said a goodbye to the woman as he led her away and out of the foyer. Sibley was waiting outside with the car. She held in her question for at least two minutes before it almost burst out of her. 

“Were you two lovers?” she asked as quietly as she could.

Peter sighed, and then gripped her hand tighter. “Yes,” he answered honestly.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** I do apologise for forgetting to update this one considering this part has been sitting on my hard drive for ages.  
>  **A/N2:** in case you are still wondering, I'm trying to follow the plot in the book... yeah, that might have been a stupid decision in hindsight.

Knowing they would be talking about personal things, Peter leaned forward and pressed a button that alerted Sibley driving the car that he needed his attention. “Yes, Mr Vincent?” Sibley enquired.

“Sibley, get those fucking iPod earpieces in. We need some privacy back here,” Peter ordered.

“Yes, Mr Vincent,” Sibley obediently replied. “Right away.”

Peter patiently waited until the obvious sound of music was being heard by Sibley before stating under his breath, “About fucking time. Now I can explain myself.”

He then focused on Donna still sitting closely by his side and continued, “Yes, Sarah Jane and I were once lovers. But it was a long time ago; so long I hardly think it matters.”

Of course, he would have had numerous lovers, Donna told herself. “Exactly how long ago are we talking?”

He pondered that as he calculated the figure. “Before I went to America; a good fifteen to twenty years or so ago... It was eighteen years ago, back when I was still a teenager.”

Donna could feel herself begin to seethe with righteous indignation. “I see,” she said icily.

“It’s not what you think,” he tried to reason.

“What, some older woman takes a teenage boy into her bed, like some paedophile would. Yes I’m sure it isn’t what I think,” she blazed.

“Lots of middle-aged men go after teenage girls,” he argued. “It happens all the time.”

“Still don’t make it right,” she spat back. “You were only a boy and she should have known better.”

“I was seventeen! It wasn’t a case of being preyed on. She loved me,” he softly stated and averted his gaze.

“Oh I’m sure she did,” Donna complained. “And what about you? Do you love her? Did you love her at the time?”

He shrugged. “In a way. She initiated me into sex and showed me a great deal, so I certainly cared about her deeply, and I’d hate to see her hurt.”

“How many more of these women are out there?” she wondered.

“Look! I haven’t been a monk and I’ve had my own fair share of lovers,” he confessed. “Nowhere near as many as the newspapers would have you believe, but there has always been someone willing to offer themselves.”

“Do you realise what that makes you sound like? You’re no better than a dog on heat,” she raged. “And what does that make me? I’m merely the latest conquest. I’ve been such a fool and I’ve probably just lost my job on the first day. A new low, even for me.”

“Donna,” he started to say, “This between us isn’t like that. We could be so much more, if you’d let it, and ignore the appearance of some old girlfriend that I don’t want anymore.”

The word ‘old’ caught her keen attention. Did this mean she’d soon be tossed aside whilst he prowled after younger blood? “Why? Is her age against her now? Is that it?”

“Fuck no! It’s because I’ve moved on. I don’t need her anymore in my life, but I do need you. I can’t explain it, but you already feel special. Please believe me,” he begged. “I’ll buy you anything you want to make this up to you.”

“Anything?” she queried, wondering how far she could push this to see how frail this promise was. It was all a sham anyway, this relationship with him. She was nothing more than another notch on his bedpost; that much was sure. “Does that imply I have a price, like some high class prostitute? Well doesn’t that make me feel special? I might come out of this with a new car or perhaps some jewellery. Whoop-de-doop!”

He sat gazing at her, appalled at the way their conversation was going. “What is your fucking problem? I thought you were a woman of the world. We’ve both been knocking around a while to know that no one at our age is a virgin unless they’re a religious nut, or something has gone wrong.”

She saw nothing but red, and went for him. “This has gone wrong alright, mate! It’s got you as a rent boy and me as a tart. Yes, it’s all perfectly hunky dory by the sound of it. Before you know it you’ll be paying for me in luncheon vouchers or Tesco club points.”

He grabbed her by the tops of her arms and forced her to look at him. “I can understand why you might be upset by Sarah Jane turning up out of the blue; fuck knows I was thrown off balance by her suddenly accosting us like that, but she means nothing to me anymore and hasn’t done for years. Think about it; I would never have gone to America if she had.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Donna gasped out. “For all I know her husband might have chased you there.”

“She didn’t have one, although there was this bloke Harry interested in her for a while, but that’s beside the point,” he stressed through clenched teeth.

“Then what is the point?” she wondered.

“Can’t you see?” he demanded in exasperation. “I’m with you now and I know this might be a bit soon but I don’t want anyone else. Don’t you think I could have had my bed full of groupies if I had wanted to?”

“Or friends of your mother,” she sarkily added. “Don’t forget that demographic.”

With his face like thunder, he spat out, “Don’t bring my mother into this! Yes, this might have come up in therapy but...” He halted the angry revealing words before more potential damage was done. 

Realisation struck her, and she softly asked, “How old were you when she died?”

“Not very old. Look, I don’t want to talk about this when it has nothing to fucking do with our problem,” he hissed in hurt tones.

It was so obvious that the topic of his mother still hurt him badly, and had probably been the cause of him originally seeking solace from Sarah Jane like he did. Young girls did it often enough with father figures they fall in love with. “My poor Peterkins,” Donna murmured.

“Donna,” he whimpered before regaining his composure. His hand came up and started to caress her cheek with tender sweeps of his fingertips. And his voice became tender and pleading as he edged closer. “Please believe me when I say that I couldn’t bear to lose you. You must feel it too, this magnetism between us, like we’re being pulled together for a whole new purpose. Say you’ll stay with me a bit longer.”

How could she resist such heart-spoken words, or his appealing puppy dog eyes? “Okay,” she agreed; and he immediately kissed her.

“Thank you. Thank you,” he gasped out between soft touches of lips that promised love. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Peter, you don’t have to buy me anything, honest you don’t. Just treat me with respect, that’s all I ask,” she told him.

That smug grin of his was back in full force. “I'll show you so much fucking respect you’ll think you’re the Queen of Sheba.”

“Daft sod,” she chided him, and tugged him close to resume their embrace.

 

“Well? What do you think of her?” Peter asked having led the way onto the tour coach and proudly shown her the sights.

‘A bloody mess’ came immediately to mind as Donna perused the compact space. The so-called office space was woefully untidy. “It could do with a few bits,” she diplomatically replied.

“Get your notepad out then,” he retorted. “This is your area of expertise, not mine.”

She waved an inquisitive finger towards the small desk that was now her terrain. “Your last PA, are they responsible for this, or are you?”

“Oh that,” he said dismissively as he opened the fridge and peered inside. “Most of that is mine. I seem to have a problem keeping PAs for some reason. The last time I was back here in Britain can be found in that folder you’re holding,” he added when he spotted her nosing through a box folder.

“This doesn’t look as though a man wrote this,” she commented as she critically eyed the ‘I’s with exaggerated dots.

Peter peered over her shoulder to glimpse the writing and then went back to checking the larder. “Oh, that was Rose. It was all very promising at first and then things got a bit…”

“Don’t tell me; you bedded her and then she got clingy,” Donna remarked and shut the folder firmly. “Well?”

“Yes, alright,” he reluctantly admitted. “But it was only the once, and she was absolutely gagging for it, so what’s a man to do?”

“Leave it in his trousers for once. Have you ever considered that option?”

“Funny!” he snarled. “If you’d have seen her you’d be amazed by my self-control.”

“Or lack of it,” she mumbled to herself, as she investigated the office supplies on board and began to write a list of requirements. “Okay then, I can tell you’re _dying_ to tell me why your control was so brilliant in this instance.” 

To her dismay he grinned. “She had this pert young body, blonde hair and this sexy little smiley thing with her tongue. Of course she was all over me like a rash whenever she could find an excuse to touch me.”

“You certainly didn’t keep her for her office skills, that much was evident,” Donna remarked. “Am I right in assuming her figure was extremely petite?”

“She was…” He did a downward movement with his hands to outline Rose’s figure that made her look very small. 

“I see.” Donna could definitely see a running pattern here with him; a pattern that she didn’t fit at all. Perhaps she was a mere anomaly? It figured. With a shrug, she turned back to her task of noting what she would be ordering in the next hour or so. In a fit of vengeance she added a brand new business mobile iPhone for herself to the list. Well, she would need to keep in touch with everyone, wouldn’t she? And he had implied she would get the best.

“Are you alright, Donna? You seem a bit pensive. Do you fancy trying out the sleeping quarters?” he saucily asked. 

“No thanks. I have things I have to organise; like a deep clean of this coach for a start before anyone else steps foot on it. So if we could get back to your room so I can do that, I’d be grateful,” she firmly answered.

“But don’t you want to play in here for a while?” 

He looked crestfallen but she wasn’t going to fall for it this time. 

“I have work to do, Peter; and lots of it by the look of things, so I’d like to begin as soon as possible.”

“Okay, I’ll get Sibley to take us back,” he complied.

 

A couple of hours later he was lying on the hotel room settee pouting at her as she finished her latest phone call. “Have you finished yet?” he whined. “I’m getting bored and hungry.”

“Then go and eat,” she replied without looking up from her notes. “I’m not stopping you.”

Was he really being dismissed?! “But I need you to come with me,” he purred.

Donna looked up at that point and was shocked to have found he had leapt up off the settee and was pressing himself suggestively against her back. She slapped his leg. “I’m busy! What part of this…” She indicated towards the paperwork spread out in front of her in emphasis. “…don’t you get? You want to be on the road tomorrow and there’s lots to do.”

“Then I’ll order in,” he declared decisively. “What do you fancy?” He picked up the phone and gazed at her questioningly. 

“Just a sandwich will do. I’m not fussy,” she absently replied as her attention returned to her papers.

A hand appeared on the hotel desk before her to obscure her view. A hand that obviously belonged to an irate Peter.

“No, you will eat properly and take a break. How many more things have you got to tie up?” 

“If I’m honest, only one or two now, and then I have to go home and pack,” Donna admitted.

“There you go,” he said with relief. “And if it helps matters, I’ll come to your home with you.”

“No, you don’t want to do that. You really don’t,” she insisted; but she could tell that battle was lost too.


	10. Chapter 10

“Is that you, Donna?” Sylvia called out when she heard movement in the hallway.

“Yes Mum, it’s me!” Donna called back as she retrieved her key from the front door lock.

“How did it go with Blackbeard today?” Sylvia asked as she sauntered out to greet her daughter in the hallway. “I bet he… ARGH!!” She let out a shriek as she spotted Peter standing in the small hallway by the foot of her stairs.

Now this could be fun, he decided. There was nothing like a spot of balloon popping to improve the appetite. “Hello, Mrs Noble. It’s lovely to finally meet you,” he warmly greeted her. 

“H-h-hello, Mr Vincent. It’s very nice to see you too. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” A very flustered Sylvia wiped desperately at her face. The Wednesday Girls would never believe her when she told them about this later; what with him standing there in his long leather coat, showing off his hairy bare chest beneath an open black shirt, and those famous tight leather trousers. She gulped away the sudden restriction that had unaccountably materialised in her throat. “Donna, why didn’t you tell me you were bringing your boss home?”

“Because I didn’t know myself until a few minutes ago,” Donna defended herself as she hung her coat up and dumped her bag. She gestured to Peter the offer to take off his coat but he waved away the choice.

“I’m very sorry to catch you unawares, Mrs Noble, but I have heard so many good things about you and your beautiful home that I had to come and see it,” Peter schmoozed, smiling smugly at Donna as he did so.

“Oh my!” Sylvia gasped as she almost swooned against the doorframe. “How lovely of you to erm... Please do come in. You are very welcome to stay for dinner. Donna, what sort of thing does he like?”

The mischievous pup! Donna could have cheerfully throttled him for winning over her mum so easily. “He’ll eat practically anything, Mum.”

“Please don’t bother too much on my account,” Peter continued. “But I do like a nice roast.”

“Roast!” Sylvia was already ticking items off a list in her head. “I’ll go and get some potatoes on. Donna, take him in to the lounge. Excuse me.” And she scurried off into the kitchen.

“You liberty taker,” Donna hissed at him.

“What?” he answered with his most innocent expression. “Do you have any idea how often I crave a decent, proper home cooked meal? This is a golden opportunity for me.”

She scowled at his sheer cheek, grabbed his hand and yelled out to Sylvia, “Peter is going to help me pack a few things for the tour. We won’t be too long!” She then turned to him and whispered a warning, “And you’d better behave, mister.”

“Oh I’ll behave alright,” he replied with a delighted giggle. This situation had potential, so he let her drag him up the stairs into her bedroom.

“It’s a bit sparse,” he remarked, eyeing the décor once they were standing on Donna’s bedside rug. 

The room held a double bed, a wardrobe, a low bookcase and a small lamp table. There wasn’t space for much else. The lilac painted walls looked a bit tired and were in need of a touch up, but beyond that it had a welcoming air.

“What was you expecting? The Sistine Chapel?!” Donna asked, pulling out suitcases from the back of her wardrobe to use. “This isn’t exactly Linda Barker or Laurence Llewellyn Bowen country, you know. Get your bum in gear and start helping me put my stuff in a case.”

“This isn’t the way to treat your employer,” he half grumbled, lifting the case that had been thrust into his hands onto the bed.

So she deliberately pinched his bum cheek, making him jump. “I thought you were here in your capacity as a friend.” 

“I suppose I am,” he agreed, forcing out his hand to grasp her wrist in order to bring her nearer. “I much prefer the idea of being here as your fucking boyfriend,” he leered, carefully enunciating the words so that his teeth clicked shut. 

Inevitably she swatted at his hand to let go. “Call yourself a boy? In your dreams, mate! You missed that boat years ago.”

But Peter wasn’t to be deterred. “I’ll let you be my girlfriend if you’ll agree I’m your boyfriend,” he purred as seductively as he could into her ear. “And then we can celebrate by fucking on your bed right here.” His mouth lingered over hers, trying to persuade her with his proximity.

To his obvious disappointment she shoved him away.

“Three words,” she said to his resultant pout. “Mother. Suitcase. Tour.”

Peter nodded. “Alright, I get the message. But don’t think I’ll let you get away with this later,” he warned. “Not everyone can refuse Peter Vincent and get away with it.” 

“Who do you think you are; the bloody Queen?” Donna mocked him. “Now hand us the things out of the top drawer, and no nicking souvenirs!”

“As if I would,” he countered as he moved to obey. Warming to his task, he eyed a particularly attractive pair of lacy knickers he held in his hands before passing them on. “I can do helpful. See!”

Donna, however, was not convinced; and had to wrestle several items from his inquisitive grasp before her packing was done. At least she found out the sort of thing caught his attention, she supposed. Not that she couldn’t have guessed in the first place, mind you.

 

“I’ll tell you what,” Peter remarked conversationally as he zipped up her suitcase, “the first chance we get to go to a shopping mall, I’m buying you some lacy crotchless knickers from Ann Summers.”

“Oh? Why’s that?” Donna wondered with interest as she closed the other suitcase. “Don’t you like my underwear? You seemed to like them a minute ago.”

“Well...” He vaguely nodded his head in agreement. “I do, but I’ve had a thought since then. I quite fancy taking you through some lace,” he gruffly said with a leer.

“That’s what I like about you. You’re all heart,” she mocked him, adding another item to her second case.

So he sidled nearer to ask, “Don’t you fancy me tasting that delicious clit of yours?” He flexed his fingers meaningfully in front of her eyes before seductively adding, “These are very talented. I promise to make you scream again.”

“You’ve not even done it the first time,” she complained. “I dunno who you’re talking about but it ain’t me.”

“Isn’t it?” he denied, and pouted prettily. “Then I’d better rectify that, right away,” he huskily offered and pushed his hand smoothly down her stomach and below the elastic of her knickers.

“Peter!” she squealed in horror. “My mother is downstairs.”

“That makes two of us,” he joked, and winked saucily. “Hang on a tick... I’ll be back.” He withdrew his hand for a moment, hauled her full suitcase in front of the door, and triumphantly returned to her side. “Now where were we?” he queried as his fingers returned to their previous position, teasing her aroused flesh. “Oh yes, I was warming you up.”

“Peter, please,” she stuttered out; half in protest, half in encouragement.

“Anything for you, darling,” he cheekily declared before clamping his mouth over hers to kiss her deeply, while his fingers intimately stroked their way to a pleasing crescendo.

Soon he had her on her back, arching up into his touch as he ministered his own brand of sweet torment. Not once did he relent with the sultry kisses or talented fingers. She was whimpering into his mouth, getting closer and closer to completion, when one of the worse sounds in the world shattered their amorous illusion.

“Donna, I brought you both some tea,” they heard Sylvia say as she tried to enter the room. The door banged into a large object. “Oh! I can’t get in. Something’s in the way.” 

Indeed it was; the suitcase Peter had placed there had fortunately and deliberately blocked her entrance.

“Sorry, Mrs Noble, that’s my fault,” Peter called out. He threw another wink at Donna, extracted his hand and pretended to race over to remove the offending suitcase, making a show of demonstrating how heavy it was.

To Donna’s chagrin, her mother smiled gratefully at him before walking in with two mugs of tea that she placed down onto the dresser. “You’ve been busy,” Sylvia noted, eyeing the packed bags and the weary flush upon her daughter’s cheeks.

“I helped as best I could,” Peter boasted like an eager little boy.

Sylvia missed her daughter rolling her eyes in disgust; because she was too busy patting his arm. “Aren’t you lovely? I wish more men were like you.”

There was nothing Donna could say to that without incriminating herself, so she busied herself picking up bags instead, and they sipped their tea.

 

Everything was down waiting in the hallway for Sibley to collect by the time Sylvia dished up their meal. Peter, Donna noted, was given a hearty portion of roast potatoes along with his meat and vegetables. 

“I hope you like pork, Peter,” Sylvia continued to gush in his direction as she handed him the full gravy boat. “If I’d have known you was coming I’d have got a bit of beef in.”

“No problem, Mrs Noble. This looks lovely,” Peter enthused. “This is a rare treat for me.”

“Call me ‘Sylvia’, please,” Sylvia begged, sitting herself down within easy reach of him. “Mrs Noble sounds far too formal now that you are practically family.” 

“Mum, stop trying to marry me off to every bloke that steps over the threshold,” Donna grumbled. It didn’t stop her tucking into her own meal. Well, who knew when she’d next get the chance to eat so well? “You’ll frighten him off.”

Peter smiled good-naturedly through his mouthful of food. “Normally I’d say that I don’t scare that easily, but…”

So she swatted his arm. 

“Donna, that’s no way to treat your new boss,” Sylvia gasped out in shock. “You’ll end up being forced to miss out, if you’re not careful.”

There was a merry twinkle in Peter’s eyes as he played along. “Yes, Donna. You should treat me with great care.”

What Sylvia wasn’t aware of was that his right hand had slid beneath the table and had caressed a path over her thigh, ending up on the crotch of her trousers. He emphasised his words by delicately prodding her intimately; silently promising to continue their interrupted moment.

 

“See, that didn’t go so bad,” Peter smugly pointed out in the car later as they travelled back towards the hotel. “Your mother turned out to be more of a pussy cat than a dragon.”

Donna gazed out at the passing London scenery, feeling slightly irked that he’d been so successful at schmoozing her mother. “Beginners luck,” she retorted. “Next time she’ll be threatening you with her axe, just you wait and see.”

“I think you’re jealous,” he decided, sitting back confidently. “Animal magnetism, they call it.”

“Are you sure?” she questioned as she turned to regard his countenance. “Then again, Mum always did have a thing for underfed stray dogs.”

His look of a popped balloon was all that she could have hoped for. “Yeah,” he faintly agreed. 

 

“What are you planning? You look devious,” she wondered as he watched her in the mirrored walls of the lift up to his hotel suite.

But she needn’t have worried too much, because he licked his lips and feigned innocence. “Me, devious? Nah! I’m just your average horny bloke thinking how I’d love to get inside your knickers.”

“What, again!” she mock grouched. “You’ve got a one track mind.”

Pushing her out of the lift, and into his suite, he growled in frustration. “I assure you I haven’t,” he swore as he pressed himself closer. “For a start, I’m thinking about these...,” he suggestively cupped her breasts. “I’m definitely thinking about this...” One hand went lower to cover her pubic area possessively. “And there’s even a little bit of room to think about doing this...” His tongue swept out to lick and glide along her lips before thrusting into her mouth. “So that’s at least four things on my mind.” 

“Don’t you ever stop?” she murmured, keen not to reveal how much he affected her.

“You’d hate it if I did,” he replied. “Now let’s get into the bedroom because I really want to fuck you, in all the ways I promised.”

“Which one is first?”

His fingers prodded forward into her flesh. “That’s going to be you. I am going to fucking fuck you so hard you'll never want another man.”

“Are you saying you’re going to be so godawful you’re going to turn me into a lesbian?” she teased, wrapping her willing body around him.

“The only complaining you’ll be doing will be because I’ve stopped,” he countered, loving their bickering almost more than the sex they were bargaining.


End file.
